


Bloom

by Aryagraceling



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coffee Shops, Coming Out, Confrontations, Emotional Hurt, Flirting, Hanahaki Disease, Idiots in Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mutual Pining, Recovery, Teaching, Trans Hatake Kakashi, Trans Umino Iruka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 14:11:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19443040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryagraceling/pseuds/Aryagraceling
Summary: “My mother always made me swear I’d never fall in love with anyone because of this.”“Sort of a crappy thing to make you promise.”“Ah, I did it with my fingers crossed,” Iruka says. “Everyone knows those promises don’t count.”





	Bloom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lalaiths](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalaiths/gifts).



> It's not a full coffeeshop _or_ teaching AU, but I did my best to include a bit of all three requests for you, lalaiths! I hope you enjoy.

Budget cuts are the bane of Umino Iruka’s existence. First art programs drop, then sports, then everything else until it’s  _ his _ head on the chopping block, the fact that he’s almost entirely turned the elementary school around irrelevant in the face of ‘first in, first out.’ He’s always hated that phrase, first in first out, and now here he is, making sure the containers of food in the back cooler are dated first in, first out.

“Is it honestly that hard?” he huffs. September second  _ obviously _ occurs before September fourth, but you wouldn’t think it from the way the tomatoes are arranged on the shelves. A burning sip of coffee takes the edge off his frustration as the oven beeps, the scent of fresh scones wafting on the breeze from the open window.

“Too much at once,” he grumbles. Mornings are  _ not _ his forte. Even three cups in and all the hustle and bustle characteristic of early morning at the Grind, his brain is foggier than outside after the rain last night. He shakes his head. “C’mon, c’mon,” he mutters, searching desperately for the oven mitt he  _ swears  _ was right there a minute ago. “I’m not burning myself for baked goods.”

“Looking for this?” 

Iruka snatches the red mitt, racing away and uncaring about who it was that handed it to him as he takes out the tray. “Thanks,” he calls over his shoulder. He should’ve cleared a spot for the pan before retrieving it, a fact he realizes too late while he frantically searches for a place to set it. “God- _ fuck,”  _ he cries. 

The pan falls to the ground along with the rest of his dignity as he yanks off the fabric, useless with the hole in the side that  _ no one ever fixed like he asked.  _ His thumb stings like no other, even under the ice cold tap. “I hate...this...place,” he grits. “Hate mornings, hate coffee, hate--”

“Pretty useless job for you, then,” the same voice says. Iruka turns around to see a shock of grey hair covering a masked face, eyes lifted in a smile. “I’d offer to help, but, uh, I’m not exactly qualified.”

“You and me both,” Iruka mumbles. He takes a deep, centering breath before facing the man head-on. “Can I help you?”

“I’m just looking for a large, black coffee. I’d say a scone, but--” They both look to the floor, and Iruka sighs.

“I can give you a coupon for a free one for next time,” he says. “I’m so sorry. Here, have this on us, too.” He pours the cup, snaps the lid on, and pushes it unceremoniously across the counter. “My most heartfelt apologies.”

“Maa, if you’re going to apologize, at least make it convincing.” The man waves a hand in front of his face before fumbling for his wallet. “How much do I owe you, really? I’m new to this shop. My favorite closed down last week, so I need a new morning haunt for school days.”

“Seriously, free,” Iruka says. He blows a stray piece of hair out of his face before gesturing to the door. “Have a good day at school, I suppose?”

“I’ll do my best. Don’t murder any more baked goods, all right?”

Iruka chuckles dryly. “No promises.”

“Well--” the man tilts his cup toward Iruka-- “I’ll just have to start coming in more often to make sure the scary man doesn’t terrorize my darling chocolate chip children.” With that he’s walking away, leaving Iruka to stare in shock while Deidara walks in, yelping at the mess.

“What did you do?” they exclaim.

Iruka throws the oven mitt at their back. “Someone hasn’t been listening when I said get new equipment,” he snips. “At least I was able to buy my own school supplies, didn’t have to wait for approval.”

“Excuse me, school supplies?” the silver-haired man says, twisting around at the door. “What grade?”

“First,” Iruka says, tossing his hands in the air. “Not that it matters, because I’ve been let go.”

The man’s eyes narrow. “Unfortunate,” he muses. “Don’t run away.”

Iruka’s smile most definitely does not reach his eyes as he waves. “I don’t plan on it,” he says sweetly.

Deidara snickers. “Hatake’s got his eye on you,” they sing-song. “Bet all the girls’ll be jealous.” They waggle their fingers before disappearing to find a broom and mop for the mess that is Iruka’s baking skills. 

“Please,” Iruka scoffs. “He had his eye on the disaster that is me in the mornings. They’ve got nothing to be jealous  _ of.”  _

“‘S okay, they just call me a disaster. It’s not morning specific.” Deidara shrugs as they dump the crumbs into the garbage can. “You’re a nice one, at least.”

“I’m not doing your end-of-shift duties for you.”

Deidara shrugs again. “Always worth a try.” Between customers, they give the low-down on the teacher. “Sort of a hard-ass, unafraid of Gaara’s threats, nice enough if you can catch him on a good day. I caught him reading porn at lunch, though, so take that how you will.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t,” Iruka says. 

“Oh, I’m sure he was,” they insist, pasting on a smile as both are once again swept up in the tide of mid-morning rush. Organization is forgotten until later, when the sight of Izumo strolling up to the front door nearly has Iruka weak in the knees with relief.

“You’re not here a minute too soon,” he tells the man. “It has been...a morning.”

“Pleasant,” Izumo sighs. “What’s all done?”

“Everything but reorganizing the cooler,” Deidara says. Izumo cocks a brow at Iruka. “Oh, it’s not his fault,” they continue. “He’s been complaining about it all day, but we haven’t had time between everything to get it done.”

“I’ll do it,” Iruka says. 

“You can do it tomorrow,” Izumo says. “Or we’ll get to it tonight.”

“Really, it’s not a pr--”

“Go.” Izumo tugs fondly on the end of Iruka’s ponytail before pushing him toward the computer. “How busy are Monday nights anyway, realistically?”

Iruka heaves a sigh of relief. “Have I told you recently how many drinks I owe you?”

“I stopped counting after the first few hundred times,” Izumo teases. “Pay me back by watching Bella when Ko and I go on vacation in a few weeks, okay? House is yours to do with as you please.”

“Or do who you please,” Deidara says, breezing past them with a grin.

“Just not in  _ our  _ bed,” Izumo says.

Iruka fits his forehead into his palm. “I’m not doing anyone in anyone’s bed, even my own,” he says. “Jesus christ.” He clocks out and keeps his head down as he pours himself a coffee for the road, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “We’re never talking about that again,” he says, just before walking straight into what feels like brick wall.

His cup explodes between them,  _ scalding _ as it soaks through his shirt and into his binder. “Oh, my god,” he gasps, frantically looking from side to side for a napkin, spare rag,  _ anything  _ he can use to press against the other person’s chest. “Sorry, shit, sorry--” He gulps when his wrist is encircled by strong fingers. “Just let me get a--”

“This  _ really  _ isn’t your scene, is it?” 

Iruka freezes, then looks up in horror at silver hair and a black mask. “What are the odds?” he squeaks.

“Well, considering we’re two people of how many in the city...” Hatake begins.

“Can I pay you not to come in here again?” Iruka asks.

To his surprise, Hatake  _ laughs.  _ Iruka can feel it in his bones, the rich tone sending a shiver down his spine. “I’m not sure you could pay me to stay away, honestly,” he says with a wink. “I came back to ask you something.”

“How I could be so careless?”

“How come you were let go?” Hatake asks. He lets Iruka go as Izumo appears with a rag, shooting a questioning look over the man’s shoulder at Iruka. “I mean, you’re obviously not suited for serving coffee, so--” he dabs at his shirt-- “what gives?”

“My old district had to trim some dead weight,” Iruka says. “Unfortunately, I was dead weight.”

“Were you?”

“That’s a load,” Izumo says, coming to stand with an arm around Iruka’s coffee-stained shoulders. “Don’t sell yourself short. You did all you could with what you had.”

“And what was that?” Hatake asks.

“Fuck all,” Deidara says across the counter, earning a glare from all three men. “What? I’m trying to help.”

“You’re going to be in my classroom come Wednesday,” Hatake says. “Remember what the rules are before you come in with that mouth and attitude.” He turns back to Iruka. “Interested in taking on a position under me? You get to work with that one every day.”

Iruka’s still stuck on  _ position under me  _ when Izumo elbows him. “Say yes,” the other man says. 

“Yes?”

“Perfect.” Hatake grins before pulling out a business card and scrawling a number on it. “I told our principal last year I needed someone and until now, no one’s come up. If you’re interested, you can call her at the number on the front. You can text  _ me _ with--” he flips the card back to the scrawled side-- “any questions. I’d planned for a bit more time to chat, but going home and getting a change of clothes seems to be in order. Oh, Kakashi, by the way.”

Iruka nods mutely, forgetting exactly what to do when a hand is extended in greeting.

“Thank you,” Izumo says for him, pushing his arm toward Kakashi’s. “He’ll be in touch.”

“I hope so,” Kakashi says as he shakes Iruka’s hand. “Looking forward to working with you...I’m sorry, what was it?”  
“Umino. Ah, Iruka,” Iruka says.

Kakashi’s eyes crinkle. “A pleasure, Iruka. Hope to hear from you soon.”

**

He doesn’t hear from the brunet with the pretty hair for entirely too long. In fact, the first he hears of him is from Tsunade, coming in on the third day of school to tell him congratulations on his new aide. “Teaching biology to sophomores,” she says. “I don’t envy either of you.”

“Don’t worry, we start out with the fun stuff,” Kakashi says. “All the good that comes with sex, drugs, and rock and roll.”

“I sincerely hope the Hyuugas don’t hear about that lesson plan,” Tsunade chuckles. “We’ll all be fucked.”

“Language, Ms. Senju,” he says, wagging a finger at her as she walks out the door. “How dare you come in here and say such rude things?”

“Same way you come into my office three days before school begins raving about the hot barista and how he’s  _ perfect,”  _ she says. “Give me a break. I put up with your shenanigans.” 

“Because you love me!” he calls, but she’s already out of range. He slumps back in his chair and scratches absentmindedly at his chest as he looks over his lesson plans. Tsunade left Iruka’s number on a note, so really, he should just call to set up a meeting. He detests phone calls, so instead he pulls his cell phone from his pocket and fires off a text, hoping 3:30 isn’t too early or too late in Iruka’s day. It’s just right, apparently, and he smiles as he confirms his room number. 

_ Be there in twenty - I _

_ Very professional, texting - I _

“Eat me,” Kakashi says. He puts his feet up on the desk and leans back, hands behind his head, to relax for a few minutes. There’s more than one moment he considers pulling out a book, but being caught with what he’s got on hand may not be the best first-- _ well, second. No, third,  _ he thinks with a smirk--impression.

As it turns out, third time  _ is  _ a charm and Iruka’s actually quite the gentleman. He shows up with two coffees and two chocolate chip scones, still warm. “Had to microwave them, but I figure this makes up for the other day,” he says, burying a hand in his ponytail as he ducks his head. “Did you get burned badly?”

“Couldn’t feel any worse than any of the other burns I’ve gotten,” Kakashi says. “Nothing beats an IED.”

“You--” Iruka’s hand comes up to his neck, and Kakashi nods.

“Little bit of coffee is nothing,” he says.

“Next time, you can just take the tray out of the oven yourself,” Iruka says over the lip of his mug. His gaze is a bit nervous, much less so when Kakashi laughs and turns around to take a drink. “So, Mr. Hatake. Teach me the ways of Konoha High Biology.”

“Well, it’s much the same as the rest of the world. When two people love each other very much, you see, th--”

“No, no, no, no,” Iruka groans. “That talk was awkward enough the first time, and I  _ knew  _ the people giving it to me. Clue me in on what we’re doing this week, at least.”

Kakashi spins the book on his desk around and pushes it across for him to browse.

“Heavy hitting right away,” Iruka says. “I suppose whatever powers that be decided blood wasn’t poetic enough, hmm? Everyone can do with some bodily horror.” His dark eyes scan the page as he slowly munches on his scone. “My mother always made me swear I’d never fall in love with anyone because of this.”

“Sort of a crappy thing to make you promise.”

“Ah, I did it with my fingers crossed,” Iruka says. “Everyone knows those promises don’t count.”

“Right.” Kakashi turns around once more to wolf down a bite--really, it’s more like half the scone--and take another drink. “Have any experience teaching a hanahaki unit?”

“Not to first graders.”

“You’re in for a real treat, then,” Kakashi says. “‘Mr. Hatake, I accidentally touched my crush’s hand, will I die?’ ‘Mr. Hatake, what’s love feel like?’ ‘Mr. Hatake, what if I see another dude in the locker room and I feel all tingly?’” He glances back when he hears Iruka choke. “Mr. Umino, what exactly does it mean to ‘sixty-nine’?”

“Warn me,” Iruka husks. “God.” He sets his cup very carefully down before bending over and coughing until he’s ready to speak again. “Mr. Hatake, what did it mean when my boyfriend told me to ‘choke on it’?”

“Oh, you’ll do nicely,” Kakashi says. Iruka’s beet red when he turns back around, and Kakashi’s not sure if it’s from the banter or the coughing. “Is there a boyfriend?”

“Does it matter?”

“Purely professional curiosity,” Kakashi says. “I mean, if we’ll be working so closely…”

“Closest thing I had to a partner ended up, ah, not working out. It was a while ago, though.” Iruka’s face closes off and he straightens in his chair. “I can teach the unit, if you’d like. It wouldn’t be a problem for me. Experience, and all.”

“Oh,” Kakashi says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It was years ago,” Iruka says, waving it off and putting a crooked smile on his face. “I ended up not even needing the surgery for it, so that was good. Went away on its own.”

Kakashi’s burning with questions, but he doesn’t ask them. Answers will come in time, from both of them, when they’re ready. “Here,” he says, motioning Iruka to stand with him. “I’ll send the books home with you tonight. Did you decide your start date?”

“Monday,” Iruka says.

“So quickly. Couldn’t say goodbye to the Grind fast enough, I take it?”

“I barely even feel guilty about not giving a two week notice,” Iruka says. “I’m not too sure they particularly cared, though, you’ve seen me work my magic.”

Kakashi snickers as he drags a finger over the books lining the walls, searching for the instructor’s manual. “Those poor scones. My poor shirt.”

“My poor pride,” Iruka groans. 

“You really are lucky I rescued you from such a harsh environment,” Kakashi teases. “Soon there wouldn’t be anything left except a sea of coffee and cuss words.”

“You’re probably closer to the truth than you think,” Iruka says. He leans back on a desk to watch Kakashi with those eyes that could peel a soul back layer by layer. “Though let’s be honest, there are worse ways to spend your days.”

“True,” Kakashi murmurs. He finds the book and pulls it out, handing it over with a flourish. “You could be stuck with me in a classroom.”

“Sounds like the worst fate in the world.” Iruka smiles as he tugs the book from Kakashi’s hands and holds it to his chest. “How am I ever going to survive this horror? The teasing? The baked goods? The company?” He holds a wrist to his forehead, feigning swooning as Kakashi laughs out loud. “Oh, Kakashi, I just might die here.”

“Do it in the hall, I don’t want to fill out the paperwork,” Kakashi says. 

“I suppose it’s the least I can do for my knight in silver, saving me from the perils of customer service,” Iruka says.

Kakashi instinctively brings a hand to play with the ends of his hair. “Does this mean you’re my noble steed, with the ponytail?”

“Planning on riding me?” Iruka blanches when Kakashi’s eyes go wide. “NO. Nope, no, no way.” He turns on his heel and all but runs to Kakashi’s desk to grab his coffee. “We’re off to another great start. Um, so, just to be clear, no riding me. Or choking. Or--oh, whatever. Text me? Or don’t. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Monday,” Kakashi echoes. He raises a hand to wave, clamping his legs against the way he throbs at the thought.  _ At least the year will be entertaining,  _ he thinks. No matter what happens, one thing is for sure. He’s very much looking forward to getting to know Umino Iruka.

**

Fifteen year-olds are a much different breed than seven-year olds, Iruka comes to realize. It’s a different sort of challenge, but he feels up to the task. Kakashi lets him have the room from the minute students begin filing in and for that, he’s grateful. He feels a bit awkward having a more commanding presence, but that ends up being neither here nor there when they begin on the questions.

It’s just as bad as Kakashi said and worse.

By the end of day one, he’s exhausted. By the end of day two, he’s ready to snap at a few students in particular. By the end of day three, he sits Kakashi down and simply sighs. “You,” he says, “are a much stronger man than I.”

“You’ll find your groove eventually,” Kakashi says. “It’ll take some time for them to warm up to you. Sasuke especially.”

“What’s his deal?”

“Well…” Kakashi worries the fabric of his mask between his lips. “Sort of a long story, but he’s my kid now.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” Iruka says, leaning back in his chair. “Mrs. Hatake?”

“None whatsoever. I knew his brother, who was his guardian after his parents passed. Then Itachi ended up with hanahaki, and fell fast enough they couldn’t save him,” Kakashi says. “So, Sasuke’s been with me for about a year and a half now.”

“I’m so sorry,” Iruka says.

“I try to make things easier for him, but it doesn’t always work.” Kakashi’s cheeks lift in a small smile before he puts both hands on the desk. “Anyway, anything special planned for the rest of the week? Any changes to the lesson plans?”

“I was thinking about telling a bit of my story,” Iruka says. “I feel like this group needs someone who’s actually experienced these things instead of the dry shit they feed them via the books.” He stretches, bringing an arm around behind him to scratch his back. “Nothing too personal, just mistakes to avoid and such.”

Kakashi agrees without hesitation. “What are you going to say?”

“Hi,” Iruka starts, clearing his throat. “My name is Umino Iruka, and I’m a hanahaki survivor.”

**

Kakashi’s classes listen with rapt attention to the story of how Iruka fought and won against the disease. He is open, honest, raw without being overbearing, and Kakashi feels something twist inside of him when Iruka admits it took a literal knife to the back to decide he wasn’t going to love that person anymore.

“It’s not just about love being unrequited,” Iruka says. “It’s about every step leading to that point, every red flag you ignore, every boundary that gets tipped over because you’re wearing rose-colored glasses. Hanahaki, for many of us, comes as the side effect to abuse. Don’t let it happen to you.”

The classroom has never been so quiet.

Kakashi goes home and thinks that night, long and hard. It isn’t as if the disease hasn’t affected him personally, quite the opposite. He still visits his father’s grave once a month to refresh the flowers. But to hear it from someone who fought against it… 

Iruka’s tougher than Kakashi originally thought. 

It’s a dangerous game, admiration, an incredibly slippery slope. Kakashi lets himself sink into the bath he drew to ease his cramping as he thinks on his next move. “You’re just latching on to stupid shit,” he chides himself. “Hey, Pakkun! Come here.” The dog waddles in and up to the hand he’s dangling, snuffling eagerly and then whining when there’s no treat to be found. “Well, I called you to tell me to stop getting emotional, but apparently you’re a bigger baby than I am.” 

Pakkun simply gives him a dissatisfied huff and strolls out to flop back on his bed.

In the spirit of caution, Kakashi decides to wait and see how Iruka feels before broaching the subject of feelings. He continues to follow the cycle they’ve built for themselves, the wheel of time continuing to spin on as the days pass and Kakashi falls further. Sasuke asks him about Iruka one day when the wind’s begun to bite and Iruka’s just texted Kakashi to make sure he picks up their morning coffee. “Are you, like, together?” he asks.

“Iruka and I? God, no,” Kakashi says, deflecting. “Professional life, first of all, and even without that, I don’t think he’s looking.”

“All right,” Sasuke says, clearly suspicious.

“Trust me,” Kakashi says. “If someone ever takes enough pity on me to date me, you’ll be one of the first to know.” He reaches to ruffle Sasuke’s hair, amused by the sour look it earns him. “Oh, come on. Let me dad you.”

“Your jokes are more than enough,” Sasuke grumbles, but Kakashi catches a glimpse of a smile. “Just don’t do anything stupid, all right?”

“I promise,” Kakashi says.

Sasuke doesn’t notice his gloved fingers crossed in his pockets.

**

Weeks pass quickly with Kakashi. Coffee becomes routine, food and a drink coming soon after. Winter comes and with it, an all-too-familiar ache in Iruka’s chest. He panics. He calls in sick for three days straight and ignores all of Kakashi’s texts and calls asking if he’s all right. His doctor isn’t pleased to see him back, but agrees to assist him in monitoring the condition as he did last time. Iruka rejects the offer to get it taken care of once and for all because he doesn’t want to become a hardened shell of his former self, and losing those feelings means losing an integral part of who he is.

He switches from coffee back to herbal teas. It’s easier to hide the scent of blooms under hibiscus rooibos rather than coffee, and if Kakashi notices, he doesn’t say anything. Iruka stops accepting his offers for a homemade meal here and there, stops looking forward to the good morning text after a night out drinking with him.

Iruka stops drinking all together, because his body is already compromised enough.

Eventually, Kakashi seems to quit him. Their interactions are limited to the walls of the school and the occasional text to double check on lesson plans, and Iruka loathes how far they’ve fallen apart. It  _ hurts,  _ it  _ burns,  _ it tears its way through his lungs with the force of a wildfire as it weakens him. He starts wearing his baggy sweaters he kept from the months he was recovering from being stabbed, because it’s harder to see him beginning to waste away under the layers.

They fall into a different routine, one of muted conversation and irritation until one day, Iruka breaks the cycle. He arrives ten minutes early only to see Kakashi bent over and hacking into the garbage. His very bones seem to rattle with the force of it, ragged in-breaths doing nothing to soothe the way he spits something up with every exhale. He’s gagging on it, choking, and when Iruka’s hand accidentally hits the door, Kakashi turns and Iruka sees him without the mask for the first time.

Daisies should be a happy flower, blowing in a spring breeze, but spring is barely beginning and these petals are clumped together with bile and blood as they cling to the pitted skin of old burns. “Get out,” Kakashi says, nearly silent. “I don’t wa--” He swallows, shuddering, before trying again. “Don’t want you h--” He gags, and this time is unable to hold back another rain of blossoms into the trash. 

Iruka does as he’s told when all Kakashi can manage is to gesture for him to shut the door and leave.

**

Kakashi schedules his surgery the day Iruka realizes he’s got it as well. It was obvious, with Iruka, because Kakashi’s heard his story before. First, Iruka quit coffee. Then he quit socializing. Then he quit everything else that made him happy, like asking for pictures of the dogs and knitting and drawing pictures on the white board to entertain the kids he’s come to know and love. 

He quit happiness, and Kakashi followed him right down. 

The next afternoon, during their prep period, Iruka comes in and locks the door behind him. He can’t look Kakashi in the eye as he opens his hand to reveal a cloth with brilliant purple hyacinth petals nestled within. “They’re for you,” he whispers. “Know what they mean?”

“No.”

“Fucking sorrow.” Iruka closes his fist and swipes at his eyes with a ragged sweatshirt sleeve. “Love isn’t sorrow.”

“It’s not leaving me alone to puzzle out what I did to make you hate me, either,” Kakashi says. 

Iruka cringes. “I’m so sorry, Kakashi.”

“I knew, you know. I figured it out. I’m not some idiot,” Kakashi mumbles to the ceiling. “I thought I meant more to you than just someone to be dumped by the wayside.”

“You could’ve told me,” Iruka says.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly feeling very generous after having the person I love reject me for what I thought was no reason.”

“But there w--”

“Was one, yeah.” Kakashi feels the suppressants he took beginning to fade, and he clears his throat against the tickling. “You always tell the class how important communication is, you know? And then...you just...didn’t.” 

Iruka’s silent tears mimic his own. “I beat it before.”

“And you left me to deal with it alone! Do you know how selfish that is?” Kakashi cries. “Poor fucking Sasuke, knowing I might die just like his brother, and you...you--” he breaks off with a cough. “You didn’t say shit.”

“Neither did you,” Iruka whispers.

“Joke’s on us, then,” Kakashi says. “Because I loved you. Still do. Can’t quit you, even though you pretty obviously gave up on me.”

“Why do you think I still have it?” Iruka asks. “You’re not easy to quit either. I know. I tried.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m terrified of how kind you are, Kakashi. You’re too  _ good, _ and that makes me wonder when the pain is going to come. I’m scared of how much I love you.” Once the words are out, Iruka can’t take them back. 

Kakashi sniffs and looks away, holding a hand over his mouth. 

“Kakashi--”

“Is that really how you see me?” he interrupts. “Terrifying?”

“No, it’s just...no.” Iruka hangs his head and stares at the flowers in his lap. “There’s more than that. There’s things you don’t know about me. I’m--”

“An ass?”

“Maybe,” Iruka says, narrowing his eyes. “I was going to tell you over Christmas break, but then... _ this.  _ I’m, um--” He folds in on himself, shoulders bowing. “Trans, Kakashi. That’s what fucked me over the last time. I am  _ terrified  _ of people thinking the same way he did.”

Kakashi gapes at him, stunned into silence before he begins to rummage through his desk. “Come on, they’re here somewhere,” he mutters. “Ah.”

Iruka nearly falls off the chair when Kakashi throws a spare pad at him, then starts on the other box. One plastic-wrapped tube falls to the floor, then another, and another, until Kakashi’s out of tampons to throw and his chest is heaving. “For your students?” Iruka asks.

_ “For me,”  _ Kakashi hisses. “You--” he fishes out one more--  _ “IDIOT.  _ God, we’re so  _ stupid.” _

“A right pair, aren’t we?” Iruka’s relieved sob is half laugh as he wraps his arms around himself. “What the hell are we doing, Kakashi?”

“Fucking it all up for ourselves,” Kakashi groans. He slumps back in his chair and puts his hands over his face. “Me, too kind and understanding. Who would’ve guessed?” 

“Us, if we would’ve been paying attention.” Iruka stands on wobbling legs and rounds the desk to look down on Kakashi. Bony fingers drag over black fabric and alabaster skin before he gently urges Kakashi up to lean against him. “What do we do?” he whispers to Kakashi’s throat. “Where do we go?”

“Home would be a good start,” Kakashi says, voice rough. “Come home with me tonight.”

Iruka nods.

“I miss you,” Kakashi sniffs. “I just want you back, okay? Just come back to me.”

**

Sasuke does not take kindly to the sight of Iruka swaddled on Kakashi’s couch. He vanishes to his room, leaving both men to worry about what’s going to happen when Iruka leaves and the boy is left to rage about how  _ dare  _ he come here after what he’s done? 

Iruka doesn’t mind too much. “He’ll either learn to like me or not,” he says, and Kakashi agrees.

“I’d like him too, though,” he says.

“Planning on keeping me around for a while?” Iruka whispers. He pushes his head into Kakashi’s chest and lets the sound of Kakashi’s heartbeat lull him into a trance-like state. Already, his lungs don’t hurt quite as awfully, but he’s still anxious and worried and upset that they’ve let this happen in the first place. “Because that’s a whole different can of worms.”

Kakashi runs his fingers through Iruka’s hair, not skipping a beat before saying yes. “I don’t believe in true love cures all,” he says. “I’m not even sure if I believe in true love. But I do believe that you love me and I love you, and if keeping you around is how we manage not to die, then yeah, I’m going to do that.”

Iruka’s stomach ties itself in knots when Kakashi’s bare lips skirt over his forehead. They go no further than the occasional lingering touch that night, especially when Sasuke comes back out to make his feelings  _ very _ well known, but they eventually all calm down enough to explain the situation.

“I still don’t like it,” he says, “but if you’re both going to seek treatment…”

“We’ll be monitored carefully,” Iruka assures, clinging to Kakashi’s arm. “I promise. I know.”

Sasuke seems to accept it, and all three begin the long road to recovery together. Tsunade moves Iruka to the elementary school when they make their relationship known but to their relief, ensures both are taken care of. The air between them is no longer filled with regrets and words unspoken. Kakashi makes it clear that he wants to know what Iruka’s feeling, because the thought that they could relapse at any moment terrifies him half to death.

It is a long,  _ long  _ road to recovery. Missteps happen more frequently than they’d like, spats and frustrated nights spent cleaning up after one or the other misses the garbage with clumps of dead and dying petals. Therapy is necessary, and something that Iruka balks at. “Bad experience,” he admits when Kakashi presses.

“Worse than dying?”  
Iruka caves at that. 

Both promise to nurture this thing between them, and it works. Weeks turn into months, flowers fading as they grow stronger together. Months turn into one year, then two, and suddenly they’re adopting another dog--this makes three-- together. Kakashi is a constant, unyielding force in Iruka’s life, as solid as he was the day Iruka first ran into him.

It rains the night he asks Iruka to marry him. They’ve spent the night at dinner and a movie, some comedy Iruka is mildly interested in at best. Kakashi makes sure he’s safe from the rain, then from dog tongues slobbering on his hands as they kiss deeply in the hallway. Iruka expects their usual routine of having sex before bed, and is surprised when Kakashi sits him down but rejects the idea.

“Are we okay?” Iruka asks softly.

“Yeah, yeah, I just--” Kakashi rubs a hand on the back of his head and stares at the ground, fidgeting. “I, uh...stay right here.”

Even though he’s fully clothed lying on the bed, Iruka doesn’t know if he’s ever felt this exposed. His nerves tingle with anticipation as Kakashi pauses in the doorway on his return. “Kakashi?”

“I love you,” Kakashi begins. “A lot.”

Iruka smiles, just a wisp of a thing. “I love y--”

“A  _ lot,  _ a lot,” Kakashi interrupts. He takes a step forward and closes the door behind him with a quiet  _ click,  _ sealing them in near darkness. “Like, I don’t know if I even love Pakkun as much as I love you.” The bed sinks when he fumbles his way to it and sits at Iruka’s side. “And I really want you to know that.”

“Kakashi, I don’t doubt it,” Iruka says, pressing up on one elbow to cup Kakashi’s face in one hand. “What’s wrong?”

“I have something for you,” Kakashi whispers. He takes the hand and pulls it down to his lap, winding their fingers together as he takes a deep breath. “I want to love you for a long time more, Iruka. Forever.”

Iruka’s heart pounds at the feeling of a cool metal band being pressed against his palm. His mouth goes dry when Kakashi brushes their lips together, lingering with all the care in the world before curling Iruka’s fingers around the ring. “Kakashi, y--”

“Marry me,” Kakashi says before Iruka can say yes.

“Of course.” Iruka pulls Kakashi down to the bed and clutches the ring tightly as he kisses Kakashi. “Of course, yes, Kakashi, yes, yes, yes…”

“We’ve already had sickness,” Kakashi says when he can get a word in edgewise. He slips the ring onto Iruka’s finger, bodies flush. “Here’s to health, Iruka. Let’s grow old together, okay?”

“I never thought I would,” Iruka says. “Thought it’d just be me and twenty-three cats, you know? But then you came along.” He hugs Kakashi, probably crushing him, but Kakashi lets it happen. “There is nothing in this world I’d love to do more than grow old with you, Kakashi. Let’s do it. You and me.”

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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